


I'll Follow You Into the Dark

by ndnickerson



Category: Nancy Drew - Keene
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Christmasfic, F/M, Kidnapping, Nancy Drew Files, Post-Canon, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-28
Updated: 2009-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-05 10:18:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ndnickerson/pseuds/ndnickerson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nancy and Ned are held captive over the holidays, and believe this Christmas will be their last.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Some violence, adult/sexual situations.

Nancy woke up the morning of Christmas Eve with her cheek pressed against industrial carpet.

Groaning, she folded her arms and lay her head back down, her eyes closing. If she thought about it too long... oh, God. She knew she'd find a way out of here, she knew it, but last night had been horrible. She snuggled down into the sleeping bag, but the floor wasn't any softer, and she was still alone.

"Dammit," she muttered, and climbed out of the bag, shivering. The sunlight was dim through the high bare window, and she made the circuit again, hoping she had missed something.

No. Everything in the bathroom was bolted down or otherwise too difficult to liberate. The window was too high for her to reach, but even if she could, she would never fit through. No one stood guard, but that didn't matter; she had watched them push slats over the door. If she managed to break through it, somehow, the noise would alert someone before she could do anything about it.

She sat down, cross-legged, on the sleeping bag, and sighed. She hadn't called in the night before. That meant her father, Bess and George, Ned, had probably alerted the police, and were probably out looking for her themselves. Not that it mattered. She had never even known about this processing facility, and from the travel time it had to be at least thirty miles away from civilization.

"They'll find me," she murmured to herself. "They'll find me. I promised I'd be home for Christmas."

When the door opened, she was ready for any opportunity, but the gun in the lackey's hand was trained on her immediately. Bronson stepped in after, and the expression in his eyes hadn't changed. Nancy kept her face carefully blank, but her heart sank a little anyway.

"Tell me where the shipment is," he said, slowly, firmly.

Nancy tilted her chin up, but didn't answer.

"Do you think I'm going to just get sick of asking? Maybe let you go?"

"You could," Nancy replied evenly.

Bronson snickered. "We found your purse, you know," he said. "Nancy Drew."

_Fuck,_ her mind started chanting, over and over. _Very bad._

"We know you're the reason it was intercepted. We know that. All this waiting... it's not going to change my mind. Maybe we'll just... forget to feed you, for a few days, see if that changes _your_mind."

_A few days. Gives them more time to find me..._ She tilted her head. "Maybe," she said neutrally. "But I doubt it."

She caught the tremor, the sudden arc of his hand rising from his side, but he half-shook his head and his hand dropped again. "Keep it up," he said. "I'm going to enjoy wiping that smile off your face."

Nancy could feel her lip just begin to tremble, but she managed to stop it. _I'd like to see you try, asshole._ "I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart. And I didn't do anything to it."

"Where did you send the shipment?"

Nancy shook her head. "I didn't."

"You did. And I need it back. Unless you want your father to find your _ear_ in a box on his front porch tomorrow morning..."

Nancy shook her head. "Not really."

A girl came to the door, her hair in a long black tangle over her shoulders, and Bronson turned to look at her. She shrugged back in the direction of the noisy production floor, and some of the vicious light in Bronson's eyes had faded when he turned back to face Nancy.

"Just think about it," he said. "Soon I'm going to get sick of playing this little game, and I almost hope you do fight."

When he was gone, when both of them were gone and she was alone again, Nancy walked to the window in the door and looked out, as far as she could, but the corridor was empty. The other girl had vanished. Nancy sighed, then went back to her sleeping bag, where she sat down. If he really was going to try to starve her, she'd have to save her strength.

_No matter what, even if I tell him..._

Nancy buried her face in her hands. Her stomach was already growling, and she couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten. There would be a way; there was always a way. A hidden passage, a fellow prisoner, a pretended faint or easily confused henchman. She had never been in a situation that had ever bested her, in all the years she had done this. She wasn't about to start.

But if she ever found a way out of this, she swore to herself, she would take a break. Some deserted white-sand beach, and Ned, and deceptively sticky drinks with ridiculous names and paper umbrellas, and no mysteries. Not even a hint of a mystery. Not a misplaced suitcase or lost puppy in sight, just dancing...

and cheeseburgers, her rebellious stomach requested.

Nancy stared at the white wall and dreamed of civil-war tunnels and SWAT teams.

\--

She didn't even realize she was asleep again until she startled awake. Something was hitting the other side of the wall, in the corridor, hard, in what almost managed to be a rhythm. She glanced up at the door, waiting for a shadow to slide across the window, but the silhouette remained indistinct. The winter sunlight faded so quickly, and in this bare square of carpet, in this bleak square of a room, all she could do was watch shadows play over the walls and wait for salvation.

Nancy blinked slowly. Water. Sugar. Something. She could almost feel her stomach constricting.

Then the board scraped against the doorframe, and Nancy scrambled to her feet, the rubber soles of her tennis shoes making a horribly loud noise in the stillness. The silence had grown so deep that it roared in her oversensitive ears.

She didn't realize how much that little bit of hope weighed until it was gone, until it evaporated when they wrestled him through the door, his hands held behind his back, his face twisted in the same anger she felt whenever she saw Bronson and that hard light in his eyes. Her heart gave a hard lurch in her chest.

_Ned._

"Get your hands off me," Ned snarled, and the man holding him let him go so quickly that he stumbled a little on his feet, momentarily unable to regain his balance. Then his gaze fell on Nancy, and she could almost hear him cry out her name before his mouth even opened. But he stayed silent.

Then Bronson was there, in different clothes. _Almost ready to go home,_ she mentally filled in. She hadn't been undercover, working with him for a week now, without learning anything. She just wished she'd learned more.

And even though she would have given almost anything to see Ned, she had never wanted to see him like this.

"What, tracking device on all the cars, Nancy?"

Nancy shook her head rapidly. "No. Nothing like that."

"Just like that shipment you say you don't know anything about?"

Her gaze kept gravitating toward Ned, in his direction, but she always managed to stop herself in time. "Did you just bring some random guy in here to try to scare me?"

"Sure looks like it's working, doesn't it?" Bronson grinned. "Maybe he can stay with you in here while your face is still pretty, while I'm still letting you think about where you put my shipment. 'Cause I'm sure he won't like what's left of you after I beat the answer out of you."

Nancy slipped her hand under her thigh when it started to shake.

"Look, I _told_ you," Ned began, his voice heavy with condescension. "My car broke down, I just need a damn phone. How hard is that? If you don't have a phone, just let me find some other house."

Bronson barely afforded a glance at Ned. He kept his eyes trained on Nancy. And, just as she had since her first introduction to Bronson, Nancy hated the pointed weight of his gaze on her, the intention he didn't even bother to veil. She could feel it grating on Ned's nerves, too.

"Come on," Ned repeated, but Bronson didn't turn his head, didn't shift his gaze.

"I have an idea," he began, after a moment. "If hunger won't do it, and my promising that I'll beat the shit out of you until you tell me won't do it, how about something else?"

Nancy dug her fingernails into her jeans, out of Bronson's sight, her heart in her throat.

Bronson held his hand out, palm up and open, and the man who had brought Ned in slapped the gun into it. Bronson pointed the gun at Ned, his stance straight, his grip easy and familiar, without slanting his fist.

"Tomorrow," he announced. "Christmas Eve, and here I am, trying to break some cheerleader who thinks she can solve mysteries. Tomorrow, before I leave and have Christmas dinner with my family, you are going to tell me where the shipment is." He tilted the gun. "Or I kill him."

Nancy started to shake her head, her lips just parted, but Bronson interrupted her.

"No. No, please. Please. By all means, wait until tomorrow to tell me. Wait until I've killed this guy who just happened to be—"

Ned made a disgusted noise. "I don't know what the hell you think is going on here—"

Bronson finally turned to look at Ned. "I think this is the worst day of your life," he said softly. "Because you just happened to fall on the wrong side of the Girl Wonder here, and I'm sure that in her head, your life isn't worth the junkies who can, should, and would be getting high tonight if not for her conscience. By all means, beg for your life... but to her, not me. It's all up to her, now."

Ned just stared back at Bronson, his jaw set, defiant.

Bronson smirked. He cocked the hammer back and Nancy flinched.

When the door closed behind Bronson and his entourage, Ned immediately moved toward Nancy, but she met him halfway and threw her arms around him, keeping an eye over his shoulder to make sure they were unobserved. "Come over here," she murmured, leading him to the doorway of the half-bathroom, out of the line of sight.

Ned ran his fingertips over her cheek, once she loosed his hands. "You okay?"

Nancy shrugged. "When they caught me, they hit me pretty hard on the head to knock me out and bring me here." She gave him a wan smile. "I guess not everyone can afford to carry around chloroform or syringes full of sedative all the time."

Ned traced his fingers gently over the back of her head. "I'm so glad I found you."

She searched his eyes. "So are they on their way?"

Ned raised his eyebrows, and then his expression cleared. "We're on our own," he said, and the sudden disappointment choked in her throat. "I only found this place because I went through the tax records this morning, and I thought that if they had taken you anywhere, it would probably be here..."

"And you didn't tell anyone?"

Ned shook his head. "I just wanted to find you," he said, apologetically.

Nancy nodded slowly. "So there's a paper trail."

Ned nodded. "And the office closed at noon."

Nancy slumped to the floor, her back against the wall. Her eyes started to prick, but she tilted her head back to look at Ned, and keep the tears from falling. When his face fell she knew her eyes were gleaming. "So we are on our own."

Ned sat down on the cold tile, facing her. "The shipment he was talking about..."

Nancy twisted her fingers in her lap. "The shipment I told the cops about, they one they had diverted. He trusts everyone else. He knows I probably had something to do with it. And he wants to know where it is so he can get it back."

Ned shrugged. "So all you need to do is give him a false lead, or insist that he take you if he wants to find the shipment..."

But Ned's tone was only cautiously optimistic, and Nancy shook her head. "Not this guy," she murmured. "I talked to some of the other girls. He's..." Her voice started shaking, and this time she only halfheartedly tried to stop it. She was so tired of acting tough, like she didn't care, like this was all another day to her, because of every situation she could remember, every case, had given her at least a little more hope than this. "I'm surprised he's been patient for this long. Pretty soon he's going to get fed up with this, and no matter what I answer, no matter what I tell him..."

She didn't have to finish. Ned's handsome face paled slightly. "So, what he said earlier..."

Nancy looked down. "I don't think he makes idle threats."

"When he said he'd beat you..."

"When he said he'd shoot you," she completed, her voice barely intelligible. Her mouth curved up in a wan half-smile. "At least I won't be that soon after."

Ned reached for her hand. "But we're getting out of here," he said. "We always get out. We always win."

Her skin tingled where his thumb stroked it, but she lowered her lashes anyway. "I know," she whispered. "We're supposed to. And you made it here, so maybe my luck hasn't quite run out."

He smiled, even though she could see the doubt just touching his eyes. "That's right."

She smiled at him lazily. "However we end up getting out of this... we're taking a break, after," she said softly. "Some place that we can just lay on the beach the entire day and never see another person, if we don't want to."

"Sounds perfect," he replied. "But you know it never works out that way."

She shook her head. "It will this time," she said firmly, and pulled in a shaking breath. "After all this..."

Ned laced his fingers through hers, squeezing reassuringly. "We'll get away," he said softly. "We will. I promise."

She smiled. "After they turn the lights out," she said. "Now we have to go out there and act like we don't know each other."

Ned nodded, and Nancy put her hand behind her to push herself back up to her feet, but Ned caught her when she was still off balance and kissed her softly. Nancy closed her eyes and relaxed since the first time Bronson had turned to her with that cold look in his eyes, his lip curled up in a sneer.

She sighed when Ned pulled back. "I've missed you too," she said softly.

He smiled. "And after some of Hannah's pumpkin pie, maybe there can be a bit more of that."

He offered her a hand up and she pulled his face down to hers, once she was standing before him. "A lot more of that," she corrected him, her breath sweet against his lips before he closed the distance between them.

Ned chuckled. "You have a deal."

When they emerged, Ned began pacing the room, while Nancy sat indian-style on her sleeping bag again. "Can they hear us?" he asked Nancy casually, tilting his head back to study the ceiling.

Nancy shrugged. "What you might not understand," she replied, in the same tone, "is that they have my wallet. They know who I am. And if one of them gets any bright ideas, they will look in my wallet and see the pictures of you I keep in there."

Ned glanced over at her. She was looking down, her face a mask, but her lip was trembling.

"And what do you think will happen then," he murmured.

Nancy looked up, choked for a second. "Ned," she said, and there was horrible anguish in the single syllable. She shook her head.

Ned held his gaze on her, his own expression sobering, before turning to the door and hammering it with his fists. "Hey," he called loudly, but no one answered his cry, and Ned looked down at his feet. "No shoes."

"Yeah," Nancy replied, tonelessly.

Ned rattled the knob, then traced his fingers down the edge of the door. Nothing. His eyes tracked up to the ceiling, then over to the window. Despite herself, Nancy smiled. She'd taught him a lot.

"If we can get the door off..."

Nancy nodded slowly. "Yeah, if we can," she said.

Ned went into the bathroom and looked around, just as she had. "We could break that window..."

The window in the wall was too high; the only window he could be talking about was the one in the door. To break it quietly... well, maybe Bronson wouldn't leave anyone in the compound to babysit them.

Nancy snickered quietly to herself. Right.

Ned paced back to the door, craning his neck to see as far as he could, then came back to Nancy. He reached for her hand and when she gave it to him, he squeezed it softly before releasing it.

"It's okay," he said softly.

She gave him a wan smile. "Yeah," she replied.

The same dark-haired girl from before came a few hours later, a sleeping bag rolled in one hand, a grease-spotted sack of food in the other. She tossed the sleeping bag at Ned, then put the food on the floor, glancing behind her to where someone was certainly waiting for her.

Nancy, who had already scrambled to her feet, caught and held the girl's shying eyes. "Meredith..."

The girl glanced back again, her fingers shaking.

"Meredith, you know what he's going to do to us. You know when he comes back tomorrow..."

Meredith backed up, her eyes wide, and shook her head, her lips tight. She slipped out through the door and when Nancy heard the slats pushed back into place over the door, her face fell.

Ned dropped the sleeping bag and wrapped his arm around Nancy's waist. "So she is here."

Nancy nodded. "Yeah," she whispered. "I had almost gotten through to her..."

Nancy had only started working undercover when Meredith's father had come to see Carson, explaining the circumstances he thought his daughter had found herself in. Nancy had only been there to convince Meredith to come home. Diverting the drug shipment had just seemed like icing on the cake.

She would almost, almost have taken that decision back.

Ned released her for a moment, reaching down to scoop up the bag. "Did that guy say he hadn't been feeding you?"

Nancy shrugged, then turned around, heading back to her sleeping bag. "I haven't had anything to eat since yesterday," she said, her voice flat.

Ned came over to sit next to her, sorting through the bag. "You can have all of it," he said, his voice small.

Nancy shrugged again, her hair falling against her cheek. "I can't eat," she murmured, then turned to look at him. "What are we going to do?"

Ned glanced around the room again and sighed. "Find a way," he said softly. He put a foil-wrapped burger in her hand. "But you need to eat."

She managed to eat half of her hamburger. After that, she wrapped up the rest and lay down on her side, pulling her knees to her chest, staring at the door that stood between them and freedom. The grey light filtering through the window sped to dusk, and even Ned lost his appetite.

When the door rattled again, Ned was immediately on his feet, with Nancy a second behind. His fingers fluttered at his hip. He wanted to rush whoever came in.

But the gun came through first, and they were both held transfixed by it.

Bronson followed, and Nancy paled at the expression on his face. "Thought I'd seen you somewhere before," he said to Ned. He glanced over at Nancy, his grin only broadening at the look on her face. "Let me guess. You would be the knight in shining armor."

Ned glanced over at Nancy, but didn't say anything.

Bronson only chuckled. "Ned? What kind of a name is that, anyway?"

Ned shook his head, his fist clenching at his side.

"It's perfect, actually," Bronson said, crossing his arms. "Before, I wasn't sure you'd care, but now? Priceless." He looked over at the armed man standing behind him, then made a gesture. The man handed over two pairs of handcuffs, then the gun.

"Get over there. Next to the radiator."

Nancy grabbed her sleeping bag, already suspecting what he had in mind, but stood motionless when she saw that Ned wasn't moving.

Bronson set his mouth, then pointed the gun at Nancy's leg. "Get next to the radiator or I shoot her and you get to watch her bleed to death tonight."

If looks could kill, Bronson would have already burst into flames, but Ned held his glare on the man for another few seconds before he leaned over, snatched up his own sleeping bag, and moved stiffly over to the radiator, lying down when Bronson motioned for it. Bronson held the gun on Nancy while his assistant cuffed Ned to the radiator, then switched the gun to Ned while Nancy was cuffed.

"See? Wasn't that nice," Bronson smiled. He leveled the gun at Nancy's head. "Who's next, the entire Chicago police force?"

Nancy shook her head. "No one else."

Bronson studied her for a minute before he nodded. Then, without warning, he aimed a savage kick at Nancy's ribs. Nancy cried out in shock and pain, curling her legs up to cradle her wounded chest.

"Fucking asshole," Ned snarled and started lashing out with his own feet to trip Bronson onto the floor, where he could get to him, but Bronson eluded his efforts, then aimed the gun at Ned.

"You might want to watch your language," Bronson said quietly. "Or don't. Because, trust me, I don't need any more reasons to shoot her. But I'll take them."

Ned's jaw was so tight that Nancy was surprised she couldn't hear his teeth buckling under the pressure, but he didn't say anything else. Bronson aimed a harder kick at Ned, and even though Ned didn't cry out, he immediately cradled his chest with his arms.

Then Bronson turned to Nancy. "How long you two been together?" he asked, his voice casual and cheerful, almost manic.

Nancy glared up at him, her eyes shining. "Fuck you."

"In front of him?" Bronson gestured with the gun, at Ned. "Maybe to show him what it's like?"

Nancy struggled to sitting, thrashing out with her legs, which Bronson easily avoided.

"You changed your mind yet?" he continued, in that same even tone. "Or is your boyfriend an Eagle Scout too."

"He has nothing to do with this," Nancy said, firmly. "Just let him go."

Bronson shrugged. "He may not know where the shipment is," he agreed. "But if keeping him here, and alive, is the only way I can get what I need out of you..." Bronson aimed the gun at Ned's leg. "You think maybe if I shoot him in the leg and he starts bleeding out, that he can plead my case any better, for me?"

Nancy closed her eyes, the first tear slipping down her cheek.

"That a no?" Bronson smiled. "You've already had your last meal. Might as well let you have your last night together." He glanced over his shoulder at the other man. "You never know, if I shoot him he might die before I can get back, and then she'll never tell me..." Bronson sighed dramatically.

The other man shrugged, wordless, and Nancy gave one last savage kick at Bronson's ankles, without making contact.

Bronson's lip curled back as he pointed the gun at her. "If I shoot you tonight, though..."

Nancy swallowed hard. "Please," she said softly.

"I'm sorry," Bronson said, his eyes mockingly wide, leaning down, and then his cold eyes were boring into Ned's, the muzzle of the gun against Ned's forehead. "You'd beg for your life? What about his?"

"Please," Nancy gasped again, her cheeks wet now. "Don't do this. Please don't do this."

When Bronson pulled the gun away, Ned visibly sagged in relief. Bronson pushed himself back to his feet, smiling down at Nancy.

"That's more like it," he said. "I'd like to see some more of that helpful attitude tomorrow, when you tell me where that fucking shipment went." He bent his knee and drew his foot back, grinning when she flinched. He glanced over at Ned. "Talk some sense into your girlfriend, and maybe you two will get out of here in one piece."

When Bronson turned back toward the door, Nancy's gaze immediately centered on Meredith, who was framed in the doorway, her weight balanced on one foot, her eyes wide as she took in the scene. When she glanced back up at Bronson, her expression went from concern to the dull mask of denial.

"Sleep tight, kids," Bronson said, flipping off the lights. "It's almost Christmas."

After the door closed Nancy started counting her breaths. The pain in her ribs flared with each, and in the pitch black all she could see were Ned's eyes. When she reached a hundred, Nancy reached up and started working on the handcuff.

"You okay?"

Ned groaned in response. "What the fuck was he wearing, steel-toed boots? Are you okay?"

Nancy paused when the pain flared up again, wincing and reaching down to touch her belly. "I'll be okay," she said quietly. She went to work again, and with one final grunt she pulled free.

"How did you do that?"

Nancy smiled, lightning quick, even though Ned couldn't see it in the dark. "Remember when Dad was dating Adriana Polidori?"

"Yeah," Ned replied.

"She taught me a few things. I thought it was about time I knew how to get out of handcuffs." Her fingers groped over Ned's, and she started working on his cuff. "We still probably have a while before they leave, so we need to be quiet."

Ned sat up when Nancy freed him, rubbing his wrist. "Has he hurt you before?" Ned asked quietly.

Nancy sat back. "Someone gave me a pretty good working over before I ended up here," she admitted. "When I got that bump on the head. It probably was him. But he could have done worse. He will do worse." She cradled her belly in her arms.

Ned didn't say anything for a minute. "He has our phones, our wallets, our," he snickered, "shoes. Guns. And we have..."

Nancy shrugged. "Tonight," she replied.

Ned moved closer to her. "So what are we going to do while we wait?"

"Anything but tell ghost stories," she told him.

\--

His shoulders were warm under the curves of her socked feet.

"Then what?"

Nancy was standing with Ned's hands wrapped around her ankles a few hours later, studying the window. Ned's enthusiasm was contagious. Even though earlier she had been horribly depressed, now she was almost optimistic. Surely there was something they had overlooked. It would just take time.

But whatever that one thing was, it definitely didn't appear to be this high window. The glass was smeared with age, the sill painted shut, but even if she had been able to open or break it, she wouldn't have been able to fit through.

Nancy shook her head, and Ned bent forward, sliding his hands up to catch her around the waist as he bent and lowered her to the ground. "Then we go scuba diving."

Ned's hand automatically rose to find hers, and she caught it as she began their circuit around the room again. "Without buried treasure or sharks or pirates?"

"But wouldn't pirates be romantic?"

Ned chuckled. "You of all people should know better," he replied.

The bathroom... there was no door. Nancy sighed. No battering ram, then. "But this is all fantasy," she protested, looking at the sink. Thin flimsy cabinet doors, without hardware, and particle-board walls. At this rate, maybe they could fashion crude swords and fight Bronson like five-year-olds when he came back in the morning to kill them. "So why can't pirates be romantic?"

Ned shrugged. "Because they're pirates."

Nancy knelt down, peering into the cabinet. Nothing inside. Of course. Just a spare roll of toilet paper, or something else that looked blurry-grey in the dark. She would have killed to get her keychain back now, the one with the little flashlight. Doing anything in the dark was impossible. "So you'd rather lay on the beach all day?"

Ned leaned against the doorframe, which Nancy eyed for a second before dismissing as too impractical. "Well, there's volleyball, and the pool... and like you said, scuba diving. Although the last time I remember an uneventful dive with you, was when we were finishing up our training."

"So this would be our chance to start," Nancy replied, and faced him, her shoulders slumping slightly. "I don't see anything else we can do," she admitted, in a quieter voice.

"Should we try it now, or wait?" Even though she couldn't see anything other than the gleam of his eyes, she could feel the weight of his gaze on her.

"It's been a few hours, and we've been quiet. If there's anyone out there, he's probably getting bored..."

"So, we should try now."

They stole quietly across the floor to the blocked door. The radiator hadn't rattled to life at any point since Nancy had been in the room; if Bronson was keeping the heat off, maybe it was because he hadn't left anyone there. With her lockpick kit, Nancy would have been able to defeat the deadbolt, even in the dark; it was the slats holding it on the other side she was worried about.

And her lack of lockpick kit.

"Do you need me to do anything?"

Nancy studied the window. The shining grid of wire inside the pane winked back at her. "It would be quieter to break the window..."

"We'll have to," Ned replied. "But that'll leave the one on the bottom. We can break it down from the top..."

Nancy nodded. "Okay... you're stronger than me. Can you try to punch through the glass?"

Ned made some movement in the dark, and then he was wrapping something around his fist. Out of the corner of her eye Nancy could see the light playing against his now-bare chest, tracing the lines of the muscles rippling beneath, and she shook her head. Beach. They would go to the beach, once they were out of here. Somewhere warm. She rubbed her hands over her bare arms, as Ned pulled his fist back. The temperature was already starting to drop, and last night she had woken with her skin still tingling, her toes numb from the cold. Maybe she could actually be in her own bed tonight...

The third smack of Ned's fist against the window was followed by the sound of running footsteps, and Nancy felt her heart plummet straight to her feet. Then she saw the muzzle of the gun pressed against the other side of the glass.

"If I hear anything else tonight, I'll come in there and shoot you both in the head."

"Bronson wouldn't like that," Nancy replied before she could stop herself, but she remembered this guy. He'd been working the gate. Didn't say much, but he didn't have to, either. He was built like a tank, his arms sleeved in tattoos.

The man with the gun smiled. "Those were his _orders_."

Once he had vanished from their line of sight, Nancy saw Ned set his jaw. "How could he have heard us? He had to run..."

Nancy stood on her tiptoes and peered out into the corridor, then down in front of the door. "I think he has a baby monitor," she said. "Right in front of the door. So it doesn't really matter how far away he is..."

Ned let his shirt fall loose around his fist. "Oh," he said softly.

Nancy nodded, then walked back over to her sleeping bag, still in front of the radiator. She managed to hold up for a minute before she finally broke, cradling her face in her palms.

Ned came to her swiftly, pulling her into his arms, and she buried her face against his shoulder. "Nan, shh, shh, it's okay," he murmured, brushing her hair back. "Let's just lay down for a few hours. We'll think of something."

She turned her hot face against his neck and felt him suck in a sudden breath. "I can't think," she admitted. "There is nothing else. And I don't think that guy was lying about shooting us."

Ned shook his head. "I don't think he was either," Ned muttered. Then he shook himself. "Just lay down. It'll be all right."

Nancy nodded, but she didn't move. Ned traced his hand down her arm.

"God, you're cold."

She hung her head. "I don't care," she whispered.

"Come on," Ned said, moving over with her. "I'm going to zip the sleeping bags together, okay?"

Nancy tilted her head back a little, her eyes gleaming from beneath her lashes. "Sure," she mumbled. When he looked over at her again, she was struggling out of her jeans, and despite the faint light in the room, his gaze still managed to find the pale shape of her panties.

"Come on," he murmured, and as she crept between the sleeping bags, he slipped out of his own jeans before following her. When their skin touched, their bare legs tangled together, her face nestled into his shoulder, he swallowed hard. _Now is definitely not the time._

"Any better?"

Nancy made a soft noise, her arms up around his neck. "Yeah," she whispered. "Ned..."

"Hmm?"

She shook her head. Her lips were soft when they brushed his neck. "I never wanted this to happen," she murmured.

He ran his hand over her hair, his skin chilled where it was exposed to the air. "Of course you didn't," he murmured against her cheek.

She didn't answer him, and the silence was beginning to roar in his ears when he heard her gasp in a sob. "Hey. Nan, it's okay."

She shook her head. "It's not okay," she whispered. "It's not going to be okay. We're going to die in this fucking room."

"We can't," he whispered. "We have the rest of our lives together." He ran the back of his fingers over her cheek. "I didn't meet you just so things would end like this."

"How were they supposed to end?" she whispered.

Ned pulled back a little. Her eyes were gleaming up into his, and Ned opened his mouth, then shook his head. "Not like this," he sighed.

Nancy reached up and cupped her palm against his cheek. "What were you going to say?" she whispered. "Because if you don't say it now..."

Ned closed his eyes. "I always knew how I was going to propose to you," he said softly.

"You did propose to me," she reminded him.

Ned smiled. "It wasn't... real. I knew you wouldn't say yes, then."

"So you halfheartedly proposed to me?" She was trying to sound light, he could hear it in her voice.

Ned leaned forward, until his forehead was against hers. "I guess I was just saving my A game."

"So what's your A game?" Her eyes blurred together in the dark, and her breath was warm on his lips. "I know we don't have... anything, no candles, no long-stemmed roses, no fancy French dinner, no river at sunset, but that doesn't mean you can't..."

"I would have told you," he began, and his heart began to pound erratically in his chest.

"Do tell me," she breathed. "Say it like you would have..."

"I have loved you from the first moment I met you," he said. "I've loved everything about you. My life... I feel like I started living, really living, like I found my purpose the day I met you, like I spent my time before just... just becoming ready for you. As though everything in my life... you are my life. And now that I've found you, I can't imagine anyone or anything else making as much sense for me. No matter what I do, no matter what you decide or how you want to spend the rest of your life..." she exhaled slowly at that, and he could feel her begin to shake, "I want to be there. I don't want to share you. I just want to be the one you depend on, I want to... oh God, Nancy, it's all meaningless now, isn't it..."

"Keep going anyway," she whispered, her fingertips stroking down his cheek. "Please. Tell me what you were going to say."

He sighed and nuzzled against her, his lips barely, chastely brushing hers. "I want to be the one who protects you," he whispered into her cheek. "I want to be the one who loves you, the only one who loves you, for the rest of our lives. I want you, just you, I have wanted you for so long... I want to make you happy. And I want you to wake up every day knowing that you are the most important person in my life, and I would devote every single second, every bit of my strength, to make sure you never doubt that. Because I am totally, fully, completely in love with you, and my life... would be incomplete, would be meaningless, without you in it, without you... without you as my wife."

For a long long moment he just concentrated on his heartbeats and the warm feel of her in his arms, and he thought that if he had to be mortified, if he had to screw things up so badly, at least he wouldn't have very long to deal with the consequences.

"I always knew that it would be you," she breathed.

She was not cold now. She could not be cold now because he could feel the slight damp hot press where their skin met and she wasn't moving away from him, she wasn't, she was nuzzled against him still. In the back of his mind it was still growing, burning everything it touched, the contagion of her fear and despair, but she wasn't moving away from him.

"I always knew it would be you, and then you asked me and we were so young... I always knew you would be my first."

"Your first proposal?" His smile was self deprecating, sardonic.

She shook her head and he could feel the blush suddenly glowing in her cheeks. "My first," she repeated, and shifted against him, and even though there was nothing sexual in the movement, nothing overtly seductive, Ned felt his own face begin to flush in answer.

"I always knew you'd be my only."

He was too hot, and even though it had seemed like a great idea to take his jeans off, his boxers provided far, far too little protection against the response he could already feel building.

"Ned..."

"We need to sleep," he whispered. _Not now. Not now._ "We need to get some rest..."

"I won't be able to sleep," she whispered. "I'll never be able to sleep again."

\--

It was the feel of her hands at his waist, the cool weight of her palms against his hips. She drowsed, moaning, bowing her head, her hair slipping over his bare chest. None of it was real. It was all too real. They were going to die in the morning. She was going to die in the morning, and this delicate rise and fall, the slow cycle of her pulse, they would be gone.

He would spend the rest of his life with her. Promising twelve hours was laughable, meaningless, and then she threw her knee over his leg.

Ned made a soft choking noise deep in his throat, his skin tingling where it met hers. Her nails over his flesh.

"Nancy," he breathed.

She pushed her hair out of her face, and if she didn't move, if he didn't move... but her leg was still thrown over his and his palm drifted down her side, his thumb hooking just inside the elastic waist of her panties. She stretched, brushing her hips in close to his, and he had to be dreaming. She had to be dreaming, lost in some fantasy he had never dared to hope that she shared.

"Sleep," he whispered, and if she moved... he had to get out of her embrace, had to go take care of this, before he did something that he would regret.

He felt her eyelashes brush against his cheek and realized that maybe he would regret not giving in to this more.

"I can't sleep," she moaned quietly, and her hips surged, the fabric of her panties brushing against the tented front of his boxers. Ned's mouth went dry. He found himself wondering if she was wet, and squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to think about it.

"Nancy."

She ducked her head in, her mouth against the base of his neck. "I want you to be my first," she whispered into his skin. "I want you to be my only."

Ned slipped his hands under her shirt, pushing up the hem, stopping just beneath her breasts. The blood in his ears made it hard to think. He licked his lips. "I love you."

She buried her fingers in his hair, her mouth against his skin. "I love you," she whispered, arching, brushing against him again, and his eyes fluttered closed. "I love you and I want to feel... I want to feel you, I want you to love me, and I know that sometimes things haven't been easy between us, that you've had doubts... and you say, you say this isn't how it was supposed to end, but if I have to die, if I have to die like this, at least we're together, at least... at least I can show you..."

He leaned in and caught her mouth with his, slowly, sweetly, and she tasted like heat. Her thighs were loose and open and he rolled on top of her, sighing in relief when he gave in to it, his thumbs brushing against the cotton curve of her breasts. She pushed her tongue into his mouth and Ned moaned something softly before pulling back.

"You have to be sure," he whispered.

She pulled her shirt off, then met his gaze steadily, just the barest gleam in the dark. "I'm sure," she whispered, and touched his cheek. "I love you."

He gazed down at her and stroked her hair back from her forehead, and her lower lip began to tremble. She arched her back, reaching behind her, and then her bra was loose across her breasts.

Ned sighed, and when she slipped the straps of her bra down her arms, he caught her mouth with his again. His hand crept up to cup her breast in his palm. When they finally broke to gasp for breath, he rested his forehead against her breastbone, his thumb gently stroking the tip of her nipple.

Nancy buried her hand in his hair, shifting under him. "Do you want this?" she murmured.

Ned caught her earlobe in his mouth, his hips pressing slowly up against hers. "How can you ask that," he whispered, and she shivered under him, her knees bent, inner thighs cradling his hips. "I've wanted you for so long, Nancy."

She turned and kissed the point of his jaw, softly, sighing when his mouth found hers again. Her fingers trailed down the line of his spine, brushing against the small of his back, plucking at his boxers. His other hand slipped up in a slow caress, and he stroked the curve of her breast, and she arched up against him.

Ned pulled back. "Shh," he whispered, and she tilted her head back when his mouth found her breast, flicking her nipple with the tip of his tongue. He moved to the other, catching it with his teeth first.

She slipped her thumbs under his waistband and rested there, panting softly. When her hips bucked up against his again, he pulled back, his saliva cooling on her skin as her fingers drifted to just below his belly button. Ned froze for a second, then reached for her waist and peeled her panties down her legs. He was on all fours when she finally slipped her hands into his boxers and loosely clasped her fist around his erection.

"Don't," Ned whispered, even as he arched into her touch. "Oh God, baby..."

Nancy pulled her feet out of her panties and bent her legs again, opening them to him, naked and pale. "Tell me how much you want me."

"So much," Ned told her, groaning as she finally pushed his boxers down. "We're going too fast, you need to slow down," he managed, and touched her cheek. "Slow down. We have the rest of the night."

She nodded, but then her fingers gently began to explore his erection again, and Ned buried his face against her shoulder, sinking his teeth into her flesh. He cupped his palm between her thighs, resting there for a moment before gently curving his index finger up inside her, and she arched slowly against his touch. "Please," she panted.

She led him down, between her thighs, and he gently urged her open, then slipped the head of his cock against the wet flush of her inner flesh. She took his weight as he pinned her down, against the thin layer of sleeping bag between her back and the hard floor, and he gently pressed another inch inside her.

The first tear slipped down her cheek. Ned closed his eyes and felt her thighs tense. "It's okay," he whispered, kissing the tear from her skin. "Shh, it's okay."

She bit off her soft whimper when Ned moved in her again. He leaned forward and she was frozen, and when he traced his thumbs over her cheeks they were wet again. "Nan," he breathed, and then his face paled. "I'm hurting you."

Her lips curved up slightly in a wan smile. "You can't hurt me," she whispered, but the pain colored her voice. "You love me. You wouldn't hurt me."

When he pulled back, out of her, she almost panted in relief, but protested. "Don't stop," she whispered.

Ned traced the backs of his fingers over the curve of her breasts. "It's okay," he murmured, even as she pulled her legs slightly back together. "I'm not going to rush through this."

She traced her tongue against his earlobe. "I want to come," she moaned, and he almost lost it, right there. "I want you to be inside me, I want you to feel it, I want to feel you come..."

Ned released a shaking breath. "God," he whispered, and slanted his mouth over hers, kissing her hard. "Just trust me, just let me..."

She gasped hard, burying her mouth wetly against his neck when he thumbed her clit. She rested her palm against the flat of his hip, digging her fingers into his skin, and when she began to slowly stroke the base of his penis, Ned took a shuddering breath and curled three fingers up inside her.

Nancy arched, tilting her face back to find his, and when he rested his forehead against hers she sucked his lower lip into her mouth and bit it gently. She released one of those low moans, the kind he had heard her make before, and his cock throbbed in response against the cup of her hand. "Fuck," he muttered, thumbing her clit harder, sliding his fingers deeper into the press of her flesh. She wrapped her legs around his waist and moaned into his shoulder, and she was so, so wet... 

He began to thrust his fingers in and out of her, but he could feel himself tensing in frustration, especially when she began panting against him. He traced his left hand down and began to stroke that thumb against her clit, while he took his right and stroked the wet slide of her heat over the tip of his cock. Her fingers caressed the curve of his balls, but stilled when he slipped his right fingers inside her again and felt her clench with the beginning of her orgasm.

"Ned," she gasped. "Oh my God, oh, please, please..."

He bit her earlobe gently, slipping his thumb over her clit one last time before he slowly pressed her lips open and met the rise of her hips with the fall of his own. She buried her fingers in his hair and let out a choked, gasping cry when he sheathed the rock-hard length of his cock slowly in the heat between her thighs, one short smooth thrust at a time. She bit him hard enough to draw blood, her nails raking over the back of his neck, and he felt the shudder slide down the entire length of her when he began to stroke her clit again. She arched slowly again, shifting the angle of his penetration, and began to keen something, her hips thrusting up in slow shallow waves to meet him.

He moaned her name and he was shaking with the force of holding back, and even though he knew she had begun to reach her release, the pain of it, the pain of his weight inside her had pushed it back again, and she was so, so fucking tight and wet against him. He caught one of her nipples between his teeth and tugged it gently, felt her inner skin throb once, gently, against his cock.

"Yes," he hissed, pressing another inch inside her. He licked his thumb and stroked her clit with it while taking her other nipple into his mouth, flicking its tip with his tongue, matching the rhythm. She surged again, gently, and her knees bent, her legs angling back in toward her body, the angle of her hips shifting, and then she was writhing under him, and then, and then...

He let out a low groan of deep relief when he felt her clench hard against him, and he bent his thumb and stroked the tip of her clit with the nail alone. She was begging him, pleading, her hips moving in the quick instinctual vibration of arousal against his thrusts, and when the sensitive tip of his cock reached the last proof of her virginity, she screamed full-throated into his flesh.

"Does it hurt, does it hurt," he mumbled, his breath wet and warm against her ear, and her nails were digging into his shoulder blades, her cheeks wet. She dug her heels against the small of his back and pressed his hips to hers again, and Ned released a low choked cry and she was throbbing around him, hard. He closed his eyes, cupping her breast in his palm, and he could hear the pain again, she was too tight and he was too deep, but then her hips surged up again and he flicked her clit.

She screamed and he came, hard, his eyes rolling back, groaning wordlessly. He had felt her before, felt her come while his fingers were stroking that sensitive flesh between her thighs, but this, feeling it like this, he was huge between the press of her, in the heat of her center. God, it was perfect, she felt perfect...

Nancy tilted her head back, her eyes closed, swallowing hard, and then she was motionless under his weight, and he held still, just concentrating on the way it felt to feel her come. Memorizing it. Her forehead creased when he stopped touching her clit, and she gasped, tensing up when he pulled out of her.

"My God," he whispered, gazing down at her, then swallowed against his dry throat. "Okay? Are you okay?"

She nodded without opening her eyes, her forehead still creased, then sipped in a breath. "I'm okay," she replied. "I'm okay."

Ned lay down beside her, still gazing at her, his dark eyes glowing, intense. "I love you," he whispered.

Nancy reached for his hand and laced their fingers together. "I love you too," she whispered. "Did it... did it feel good to you?"

"Yes," Ned admitted, stroking her palm with his thumb. "I know, it must have hurt..."

Nancy rested her head against his shoulder. "It did," she whispered, then nestled against the hard muscle of his chest. "It's okay."

Ned closed his eyes and draped his arm over her shoulders. "Sleep," he whispered.

"You sleep," she replied. "I'm never going to sleep again."

\--

He woke, alone. The exposed skin of his forehead burned from the cold, and he grimaced, curling his legs up, drawing toward the warmth. The sleeping bag smelled of sex, of them.

Ned jerked, his eyes opening, a cry rising to his lips, and Nancy was sitting against the wall, next to the doorway of the bathroom, her legs straight in front of her. She was dressed and her hair was hanging over her shoulders.

"God," Ned amended, and stretched. "What time is it?"

Nancy shrugged. "I think it's getting close," she whispered. "You might want to... to clean yourself up, you might have blood on you..."

Ned stretched down and groped for his boxers under his feet, sliding them on before crawling out of the bag and into the cold air. "Are you all right?" he whispered.

Nancy shrugged again, and when her face tilted Ned could see the wet reflection of the tears on her cheeks. His heart sank, and he knelt in front of her, taking her chin into his hand and forcing her to meet his eyes.

She twisted her hands in her lap. "I'm sorry."

Ned blinked, hard. His mouth felt like cotton. "Are you sorry about what we..." He shook his head. "What I did," he finished, and met her eyes again, his face flushing.

She bit her lip and shook her head. "No," she replied. "I'm not." She looked down, her cheek nuzzling against his palm. "I always thought we'd have time, I just took it for granted, and now..."

Ned nodded slowly. "Yeah," he whispered. "I did too."

She gasped in a breath, her fingers brushing his as she reached up to wipe her cheeks. "I'm sorry..." She looped her arms around his neck, resting her forehead against his. "I'd give anything to change this."

He reached for her, drawing her up to him, and she made a soft pained gasp when he pulled her close, her legs folding around his waist. "You still hurt," he whispered.

"A little," she replied, and rested her head against his shoulder as he carried her into the bathroom with him. "Do you regret it?"

Ned propped her up to sit on the counter, not missing her wince. He brushed her hair back from her face. "The only thing I regret is how much it hurt you," he whispered. "How much I hurt you."

She watched him wash off as best he could, in the sink, averting her eyes when he slipped his boxers down. "What is it," he said, a smile curving his mouth. "It's not like you haven't seen me before."

"I guess I'm just not used to this," she admitted. "I guess now I never will be."

He leaned in close to her and she slipped her arms around his neck again, closing her eyes as he rested his chin on the top of her head. "I wish you were," he whispered. "I wish you... that it had felt as good for you as it did for me. And I wish that me saying that I was going to spend the rest of my life with you meant more than a few hours."

"I would have said yes," she whispered into his chest.

Ned smiled, then pressed his lips against her neck. "Even if things weren't like this, if we weren't being held captive by some crazy guy...?"

She held him tighter. "I don't know," she admitted. "I've always wanted you in my life, but I didn't realize how much until this happened..."

He just held her, closing his eyes, until her palms drifted down his back. "You're cold," she whispered.

He shook his head. "I don't care," he whispered. "You would have said yes..."

"What you said last night, what you would have said to me... I don't know what my life would have been like if I hadn't met you. All I know is that once I did, I can't imagine what it would have been like without you. And all those times I ever made you doubt that, all the times I ever treated us, treated this like it didn't matter... I'm so sorry. You're the best thing that ever happened to me, and... and I'm glad you were here with me, that I was able to tell you this, before..."

He stopped her mouth with a slow chaste kiss. "I love you," he whispered, his voice low, his breath warm on her skin.

"I love you too."

The light was just beginning to rise, in that faint grey of dawn. Ned folded the sleeping bags and sat down, holding her in his lap, her head cradled on his shoulder, as though the longer they touched, the longer they could put off the inevitable.

"What else would we have done," she whispered. "After the trip to the beach, after our wedding..." She traced the backs of her fingers over his jaw.

"I would have made babies with you," he said.

"And my detective work," she whispered. "Would you still have let me?"

He nodded. "I'd have make you put on a bulletproof vest every morning," he whispered, turning his face to kiss her fingertips. "I would've known where you were every second of every day. And I would make sure no one ever hurt you again."

Nancy ran her hand over her bruised ribs. Now that the light was coming up, he could see the bruises on his own chest, the deep purple of the marks on her flesh. She smiled. "You want... you wanted children with me."

He nodded. "Beautiful little boys and girls," he said. "Who were always getting into trouble, who looked like you."

She drew in a shaking breath. "I never knew you felt that way," she whispered, then chuckled to herself. "I can't believe I can even cry anymore."

He cupped her cheek in his hand, brushing the tears from her skin. "You're the only one I've ever wanted," he whispered. "Don't cry, baby."

When the wood began moving against the door, Nancy gave Ned one last hard squeeze before they struggled to their feet, their faces set, fists clenched. He'd be damned if he'd let her go without a fight, without the hardest fight of his life. If there was any way he could find, to save her...

The door swung back and Nancy gasped. 

"Meredith?"

For a minute he thought that maybe Bronson had decided that they should have breakfast before he came in and finished them off, but Meredith didn't have any bags in her hand, this time.

The dark-haired girl beckoned to them with her free hand, her other cradling Nancy's purse and their shoes. "Come on," she hissed. "We don't have much time."

He stood still for a moment, still processing, but Nancy, whose face was pale and drawn, bore that last faint hope, and only then did he dare to believe that it might be over. The adrenaline made his fingers shake as Ned shoved his feet into his shoes and tied them quickly. Nancy finished first and took her purse, then peeked out into the hallway. Meredith backed up, glancing around, then set off, almost running. Nancy followed, and when Ned caught up Nancy took his hand. She looked almost dazed, unable to believe it, that their sentence had been lifted.

"Where are we headed?" Nancy whispered to Meredith, and Ned squeezed her fingers gently in his. She knew. She knew how he felt, how much he loved her, and she felt the same way. This had been the worst Christmas, the last Christmas... but they were alive. They would be all right. He wanted to get down on his knees right there, in wordless thanks.

"I have keys to the van," Meredith whispered back. "My father?"

Nancy nodded. "He sent me," she replied. "He misses you so much..."

The morning was bitter cold, the wind snatching his breath away, burning numb in his lungs, but he couldn't stop the grin that spread over his face. The van, the white van he had spotted in the parking lot, was there, dirty against the blue-white of the snow. Meredith was in a thin worn sweatshirt, fumbling in her pocket.

Then Nancy's face went pale, and Ned heard it, faintly under the roar of the wind, the sound of a car approaching. "Hurry," she whispered urgently, as Meredith pulled the keys out. She unlocked the passenger door, just as the grey Mercedes pulled up, spraying gravel under its wheels.

"Get in the van," Nancy told Meredith, her face a mask. "Is there anything in there, anything we can use?"

Ned watched the driver's side door of the grey car swing out, hard. "Nancy," he said urgently.

"I don't know," Meredith said hastily, scrambling up into the van. "Let me check..."

"Well," Bronson called, over the wind, his heavy black coat swinging around him, already reaching for his pocket. Ned's heart sank, but the sharp taste of disappointment filled his throat, and his fists clenched at his sides. He wouldn't see freedom so close just to let it go. When he glanced at Nancy, he could tell she felt the same way.

"I'm sure you two don't think you're actually going somewhere."

"Stay away from her," Ned called, waiting for Bronson to pull a gun. One on one, he was pretty sure he could subdue the man, but a gun would destroy those odds.

"She still has something to tell me," Bronson pointed out. "Hell, she tells me and you two can leave."

Nancy made a soft derisive noise. "In body bags," she whispered. Her eyes were flashing. If last night she had been hopeless, lost, now she was fighting, and he wanted her. Not drowned and scared, but whole and fearless, the way he had been ever since he had met her.

Maybe now... she had already confessed that she felt the same way about him. He felt his heart leap with a sudden jolt of realization. Everything had changed, the night before. Everything.

"You don't want to be reasonable about this?" Bronson held his hands up, palms out, moving ever closer. Ned fought the urge to glance at the van, to see if Meredith had come up with anything, to protect her for a few more minutes while they held him off. "It is Christmas, after all. I'm sure we could work something out."

The window slid down a half-inch. "Ned," Meredith hissed. "Help me, I think there's something in the glove compartment..."

Nancy and Ned exchanged a glance. "I'll be all right," Nancy said softly, her eyes gleaming as they held his gaze, her nose red from the cold. "Just hurry."

"Be careful," Ned whispered. "I don't want to lose you."

Her lips curved up in a brief soft smile before she turned back to Bronson. "The kind of deal where I tell you where to go, and you let us leave here?" she called, taking a step toward the man, while Ned took a half-step toward the van.

"And how do I know you wouldn't lie to me?"

Bronson's eyes were on Nancy. Ned's stomach did a slow flip, and he crossed his fingers before wrenching open the door of the van. Meredith was tugging as hard as she could on the handle of the glove compartment, and Ned leaned in, pulling with all his strength, still straining to hear Nancy and Bronson over the roar of the wind.

"You don't."

He could hear the gravel. He could hear her gasp, even though there was no way he should have been able to. He turned his head, redoubling his efforts, and saw the black wing of Bronson's coat flapping in the wind as he rushed Nancy, and she looked so small there, her red-gold hair streaming away from her face, weak and tired and bruised, but still tensed, still fighting.

Bronson pulled his gun, Nancy screamed for him, and the glove compartment gave way, all at once. "Nancy!" Ned called over the wind.

"You bitch," Bronson said, bringing the gun up, even as Nancy lashed out with her fists. "I'm going to enjoy this."

Ned could feel the cold metal of the gun in the glovebox. He wrapped his numb fingers around its butt, pulling it out, already pivoting toward Nancy.

Just in time to see her crumple, falling under Bronson's hand, under the butt of his gun.

"No!" Ned shouted, and when Bronson looked up, his eyes cold, his foot pulled back and aimed at the soft curve of Nancy's belly, Ned already had the gun raised and pointed at him. "Get the hell away from her."

"Right," Bronson said sarcastically, and Ned could feel it. He dropped his hand by a foot, quick, and squeezed off a shot, striking Bronson in the leg before he could aim his gun at Nancy.

Meredith cried out when Bronson went down, and she was on Ned's heels as his long stride ate the distance between them. Bronson was still scrambling for his gun when Ned kicked it away, and while Meredith knelt beside Nancy, Ned stripped the other man's belt off and quickly fastened his arms behind him, savagely kicking Bronson when he struggled. He pulled him up by his newly bound wrists and led him, limping heavily, to the back of the van, where he pushed him in.

"Nancy?" he heard Meredith murmur.

Ned pointed the gun straight between Bronson's cold eyes and stared at him for a long moment. "I should kill you right now," Ned said, his jaw tight. Then he smirked. "Please, give me a reason."

"Ned?" Meredith called.

"Stay right here," Ned said, slamming the back doors of the van, then ran back over to Meredith, who had Nancy's head cradled on her thighs.

Meredith's eyes were anguished when he reached them, and Nancy was still, so still.

"She won't wake up."


	2. Chapter 2

He was whistling, along with the radio, because he didn't know what else to do. The heat was broken and he was shivering, even though he was covered in cold sweat. Over the wheel, through the windshield, the world was ice-blue, dirty slush shoved to the median, and the black troughs of wheel ruts guiding him on.

"Nancy," Ned called, his voice low, glancing into the rearview mirror.

Bronson called back, "I'm going to shoot you in the head, you son of a bitch."

"And if Nancy stops breathing, I'm going to stop at the next mudpuddle I see and drown you in it."

Bronson shut up for a minute and Meredith stretched between the front seats. "Her pulse is high and weak," she reported. "But she's still breathing."

Ned nodded grimly, keeping his eyes on the road. "Is there a blanket, anything?"

Meredith vanished into the back again, and Ned heard some low hissed exchange between Meredith and Bronson before she came back. "Only his coat," she said. "But I don't think we'd better risk it."

The station wagon in front of him was going a good five miles an hour less than Ned wanted to be, and he set his jaw as he began the laborious task of changing lanes. "Guess not," he said, his voice flat from distraction. "We should be there soon."

Then Meredith was gone and Ned's mind began chanting some half-remembered nursery rhyme, in singsong voice. He whisper-chanted it, his mouth so dry it clicked in the bitch-cold air, puffing in clouds.

He did not pray, because praying meant that he had given up all hope. And he hadn't. She had lived through worse and they weren't meant to end like this. She was supposed to halfheartedly protest all his declarations of love, his offers of marriage, and then marry him in a modest simple ceremony at the altar of some deep-paneled church, and then give him children he would sit up with through the night and worship with every bit of will he possessed. Nancy Drew was not fated to die in the middle seat of a minivan, stretched across with her legs hanging over the bend, drowsing while Meredith checked her vitals and Ned fought his way through one of the worst snowfalls they'd had in ages just so he could see her eyes again, the way they had been in the morning, when everything had begun.

"Nancy," he called again, not expecting a response, and when she groaned he almost steered the van clear off the road.

"Nan? Baby, can you hear me?"

"Head hurts," she mumbled, her voice muffled against the heels of her hands, and then she brought her hands away from her face and frowned mightily. "God."

Ned, for his part, sagged in the driver's seat. "Everything'll be all right," he said, wishing he could touch her. "We're almost there."

"You found me," she mumbled, already sounding like she was over halfway gone again. "You saved me."

"I saved you," he confirmed, glancing over his shoulder, and Meredith was kneeling at Nancy's side. "Just relax. If you're awake, everything will be fine."

\--

He sent Meredith after the cop standing guard near the front entrance and swept Nancy up in his arms himself, taking baby steps over the ice, his adrenaline so high that he barely felt the wind drifting against every available inch of bare skin. She moaned against his shoulder.

"It's okay, I'm taking you to the emergency room. We'll be there in a second."

He waited for her to protest that she could walk, that all she needed was a few aspirin and a quiet place to lie down for a while, but she just rested her cheek against his shoulder again. "Sick," she mumbled.

He shifted her in his arms, his heart beating painfully against his ribs. "They'll check you out and you'll be fine."

She licked her lips, her eyes still closed. "Is Meredith okay?"

"Yeah," Ned said, peering carefully into Nancy's face. The sidewalk was just ahead. The sidewalk, the walkway, the magnetic doors and the welcome heat of the lobby, and relief. "She was just next to you."

"Oh," Nancy said. Then she promptly rolled out of his arms.

He caught her before she fell, but she pushed herself up on all fours and retched. He sat down next to her and his hands were shaking, his arms were shaking, the pavement was wet and soaking through his jeans and he just kept stroking Nancy's hair.

"We need to get inside," he said, and the air was wet and stung against his face, and his legs were shaking. If they didn't get inside soon, if he didn't get her inside soon, he'd just have to sit here and yell until someone found them, and Nancy looked chalk-pale.

She rolled over and sprawled on her back, her legs pulled up against her chest, panting. Her hair was spread like a halo around her head and she was crying, and Ned moved closer to her, sliding his hand under her head.

"It hurts," she cried. "Oh God, my head hurts, everything hurts..."

"Come on," he said, touching his other hand to hers, waiting for her to sit up. "Come on, we just need to get inside, everything'll be fine. It's so cold..."

Ned nearly collapsed once they reached the lobby, and Nancy was only mumbling when he spoke to her, nothing he could understand. "What's wrong with her?" a woman in blue asked briskly, her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail.

"She was kidnapped," Ned said, almost out of breath. "She was beaten a few days ago, and then hit in the head this morning. She passed out, she's been nauseated, she seems disoriented..."

"Concussion," the nurse called to someone, over her shoulder. "Are you her husband, next of kin...?"

"No," Ned said, and the only thing keeping him upright was the flat palm on the countertop. He could feel his knees trying to buckle. "Her father. I'll call him."

Meredith found him in the waiting room, and woke him from his drowse with the weight of her hand on his shoulder. "Are you going to go get checked out?"

Ned dry-washed his face with his palms. "I'm fine," he sighed. "I just need them to tell me that she's okay."

Meredith looked down. "Thanks," she said softly. "You guys didn't have to do this, and I'm sorry it ended up like this..."

Ned shrugged. "Without you, we'd be dead," he replied, keeping his voice light. "And you should go get checked out, too."

Meredith shook her head. "I'm just worried about Nancy."

Ned sighed. "Me too."

\--

He'd only been able to hold on for as long as it took to get her to the hospital. What came next was always indistinct, later; he remembered Carson pushing through the double doors, his distinguished face lined with worry, and Hannah following in his wake. He remembered Meredith's father and their reunion. Then his parents were there, and they insisted that Ned go get himself checked out, which resulted in a dose of aspirin and a promise that he'd go home and get a full night's sleep.

"I need to stay here until they say she's okay."

His mother's soft eyes, her hand resting against his forearm. "Even tonight?"

Ned had to close his eyes and clamp his lips shut to keep himself from snapping. "Until she's okay," he repeated, when he was calm again. "I've never seen her look like that."

But he had, once, when she had been poisoned, steadily weakening, sick and slow and he had been terrified at the prospect of losing her. So terrified that he had lashed out at anyone he could. But instead of punching some guy's lights out, this time he'd managed to shoot the asshole who was really responsible for her condition.

The thought of Bronson made Ned push himself to his feet again, wondering if he was still in the hospital, if maybe he could shut himself into a room with the man and tell him exactly what he'd do to him if Nancy wasn't all right, if anything he'd done would linger for more than a night or the life of a bruise. He hoped there would be pins in his bones, that he'd never wake without remembering this particular mistake.

"Ned, you have to calm down," Edith said, in her slow reasonable voice. "I'm sure they're doing everything they can for her."

That was when they heard Carson Drew's voice, booming, shaking off the security officer who had come to investigate the trouble as he came back into the waiting room. "I want to see that son of a bitch right now."

Ned took a few steps toward his girlfriend's father, and Carson's eyes were alight when they found Ned's. "When you found her, had it happened yet?"

"Had what happened?" Ned fell into step next to Carson, fascinated and scared by the pure cold fury on the older man's face. "Is it something Bronson did? Did she say something?"

Carson made a hard incredulous noise. "He hit her in the head, that was why you brought her here..."

Ned nodded. "With his gun."

"She can't remember anything that happened. She thought today was December twenty-third." Carson shook his head. "Is he in here?" he asked another security guard, who was almost cowering in the horrible focus of Carson's rage.

"Sir, he's recovering from surgery."

"He, raped, my little girl," Carson said, slowly, enunciating every word. "You can move, or I can move you, but I'm going in there."

All the blood fled Ned's face. "He raped her?" Ned repeated, his voice faint.

Carson was clearly on the verge of breaking, shifting his weight back and forth, as the guard vanished into Bronson's hospital room. "When they were examining her, they found... she's..." Carson put his hand to his forehead. "He left her _bleeding_."

Ned started to go faint, his feet like cinder blocks at the ends of his legs, rooted to the spot. "But she's okay?"

"She doesn't know what the hell happened to her. All she knows is that she hurts. And he did this to her."

Angry and frustrated, Carson shoved the door open. The guard made to push him back, but Ned shouldered past him, forcing himself to make every step.

_She thinks he did this to her. She thinks he raped her._

Bronson was just coming around, his face white, his wrist handcuffed to the rail around his bed. When he saw Ned he blinked a few times, then made to lunge at him, his lip pulled back in a snarl.

"You think you're gonna get away with this?"

"You think you're going to get away with what you did to my daughter?" Carson said, low and dangerous, his eyes blazing. "You son of a bitch, you are going to rot in jail. You'll never see the light of day again."

"So the Girl Wonder really did go down," Bronson chuckled. "She die on the table or something?"

"She's alive," Carson said grimly. "And after some therapy she'll be able to get on the stand and tell a jury what you did to her."

"A couple bruises." Bronson shrugged. "Her skull must be made of iron."

"A couple bruises?" Carson was almost shouting. "Rape and attempted murder is 'a couple bruises'?"

"Rape?" Bronson struggled up in bed as best he could on one arm, glancing back and forth between Ned and Carson. "Look, I may have said a few things, but I never raped her. And I didn't try to murder her," he said, but his eyes shifted away at the last. "I want to see my lawyer."

The guard cleared his throat, and Carson made a disgusted noise, giving Bronson one last glare before he walked toward the door. Ned followed him, his throat closed, his face prickling and ashen.

He was almost out, Carson was just walking through the door, when Bronson started laughing, and the sound was horrible.

"You want to know who raped Nancy?" He nodded toward Ned. "You might want to ask him."

\--

_He's going to find out._

Ned sat down beside Nancy's bed, watching her face. Her forehead was still furrowed, creased in pain. He'd been in the hospital, once, after a concussion, and he remembered how they hadn't let him have any aspirin, anything at all, just in case. He'd been in pain the entire time. But Nancy had visited him then, grieving over her inability to protect him from the hazards of her career.

Now he was on the other side, and as he slipped his hand under hers and squeezed it softly, he saw again the cold steel in Bronson's eyes, in his hand. He knew he couldn't have moved any faster, but maybe he could have made it there without bothering to try for the gun, maybe...

She stirred and blinked up at him, the palest smile touching her lips. "Hey," she whispered.

"Hey," Ned replied, and maneuvered around the tubes and cords to slip his arms around her.

_He's going to find out._

Ned closed his eyes and felt Nancy begin to tremble. "I can't remember what happened," she whispered.

"I know," he whispered. "It's okay. They said you can't remember since the twenty-third..."

She was quiet, and when he pulled back she was resting against the pillow, her eyes closed, face paper-pale. He brushed her hair from her forehead. "Nan, baby..."

She shifted, restless under the prickling stiff sheet. She licked her lips, and then tears were slipping down her cheeks and she was gasping in another breath.

"I hurt," she moaned, and her fingers were clammy in his. "They said I'm bleeding, I can feel it..."

Ned leaned over her until his forehead was resting against the white cool fabric and he sipped in a breath, and this wasn't fair, this wasn't right, but he shoved back the hot prickling behind his eyes and forced himself to speak. "Don't you remember," he murmured. "Don't you know what happened."

She shook her head, her fingers tightening against his. "You found me," she replied. "You saved me. You saved me."

Carson cleared his throat when he walked into the room, the nerve in his jaw jumping, and Nancy, her blue eyes glazed with pained tears, looked at her father. "If you don't mind," he said, glancing over at Ned, but the tone of his voice hadn't changed.

_He's going to find out,_ the voice in the back of his head whispered again.

"Can he stay," Nancy said, her voice tiny and scratched and weak, and for not the first time since coming to the hospital Ned felt sick again, miserable at the high singing of nervous tension. He could feel it, filling the room like horrible smoke.

Carson walked over to the chair, then sank down into it suddenly, his knees buckling. "I just talked to the nurse, and she..." He dry-washed his face a few times, hiding his expression from his daughter and Ned, and Ned's stomach did a slow flip. "They want to check, to see if there's any... evidence... of what he did to you, to prove it in court, and the longer we wait..."

Ned caught on a second before she did, and he was held transfixed, horrified by the way her face slowly crumpled. "God," she muttered under her breath, her every movement making her face tighten with pain, and then she pushed herself up, wincing. "Now?"

Her legs were tight together and Ned felt his gorge rising in his throat, but the thought of putting her through it, of making her do this, just to prove that Bronson hadn't...

Ned put his hand on Nancy's chin and gently, slowly, turned her face toward his, and he studied the curve of moisture pooling in the bottom of her eyes, the matted blood on her scalp and the soft red trace of windburn on her cheeks, memorizing her, remembering the way she'd looked in shadow underneath him, remembering the way every moment of last night had pressed down until he'd felt like he couldn't breathe anymore.

"You don't remember at all."

He watched her gaze shift, turn inward, and the terrible slow shudder, the way her lips trembled, and she was haunted now, and he had done this, with her hands clasped in his, when he had filled her, and they weren't supposed to end, not like this, he had sworn it to her. He had sworn.

"I don't remember what he did to me."

Something inside him twisted so hard it snapped but it didn't quite break, and the pain bloomed in his chest, the horrible adrenaline, as he pitched his voice low and his thumb stroked over her chin, keeping her gaze on his. He could mouthe the words and Carson would still hear them, would still hear _him_, but all he wanted was to hold her gaze and make her believe, make her remember. She had to remember.

His other hand crept over the thin blanket, low over her stomach, and he laid it flat and warm over her belly, feeling the burning protective weight of Carson's gaze as he did so. "Nancy," he said, he cupped his hand over her jaw and stroked his thumb down her cheek, "Nancy, baby, he didn't do this."

She somehow went a little paler, her chapped lips shaking as she formed the words. "Someone else did this to me?" She spoke through her tears. "The man with the tattoos?"

He began very slowly to move the hand resting on her stomach, in a small gentle circle, and her eyes widened, and he heard the metal in Carson's chair squeak as her father moved.

"No," he said softly.

And he _felt_ it, felt the jolt over her skin as it passed through to his, could feel her eyes widen slightly with the dark impossible shock of it, but she didn't want it, didn't want to believe it. She looked down and Carson sighed slowly from his squeaking hard-plastic chair and Ned could feel it ending, could feel himself begin to tighten and close down.

"No," she said, half-sighing, and she shifted under his hand, uneasily. "Ned..."

And her voice was shaking and Ned closed his eyes for a long second and then he opened them again.

"It was me," he said. "Nancy, it was us."

She sucked in a breath, flushing, and when he opened his eyes again her face was wet and he could feel Carson looking at him and the anger was only growing.

"No," she whispered, shaking her head. "We wouldn't."

And he nodded, her doubt and pain rising in him, red and bitter in his mouth. "We thought--" He shook his head. "We knew we were going to die, we knew it was the last night we would ever spend together."

She shook her head, moving away from his touch, and then Carson was on the other side of the bed, his eyes blazing. "You did this to her?"

His spine was metal and ice, his muscles dead and useless slabs, but he turned his head very very slowly and he knew his eyes were swimming but he nodded. "We decided--"

But she was shaking her head harder, her eyes wide and wet, pushing herself by degrees away from him. "We agreed," she said, and her voice was rough and hoarse with panic. "You and I agreed, we said we'd wait, and we've been in... we've been in rough spots before, but it's never been... Ned," she said, and it turned into a moan. "You wouldn't, you wouldn't have done this, you wouldn't have hurt me..."

It was the look on Carson's face that finished him, that slow malevolent building of towering unspeakable rage, and Ned felt his fingers brush Nancy's that one last time before he stood and walked to the door, without another word, with only the single backward glance. She was curled up, her pinprick-bruise fingers curled in, her face pale and stricken, her eyes glowing in shock and pain. He had hurt her, he had betrayed her, and it was all gone, all of it, and only the expression on Carson's face kept him from running back to her and holding her until she remembered, until she could believe that he would never, that he had never...

"Nancy," he breathed, his hand rising an inch from his side.

She bowed her head, her hair falling over her cheek, showing him the dried blood matted in her hair, and Carson looped his arm around his daughter's shoulders, his eyes blazing.

Ned turned, his own shoulders slumping, and he walked with heavy steps back to his parents, who were still sitting in the waiting room, their concern and love washing over him like a balm he couldn't let himself feel.

"Take me home," he whispered.

\--

He stared at the roof of the car, laying across the backseat. He heard his parents' whispered conversation and knew they were debating about whether he was in any state to drive. Then they decided he wasn't, and the car kept going, past the place where he had found her, past the place where they had been.

The white lights were gleaming in the hedge when they pulled into the drive, and Ned stared at them without seeing until his mother opened the car door and put her hand on his arm and whispered to him that they needed to go inside. He stepped out of the car and pushed his hands into his pockets, his nails digging through the fabric and into his thighs, his fingers curved like claws.

In the living room his mother turned on the music and Ned sat down at the kitchen table, gingerly, gently, his movements slow and cautious, while his father rattled in the silverware drawer. The shops had all gone dark, quiet and cold and blue. Ned's heart felt vast and empty. Nancy... Nancy, he could convince, somehow, but all Carson knew was that his daughter had been hurt, violated, by the man he'd trusted to bring her back safely. After seeing him confront Bronson for it, Ned knew that if Carson's anger ever cooled, it would take, maybe, the rest of his life to happen.

_She has to remember._

_What if she never remembers?_

His parents moved around him, putting everything on the table, and Ned cupped his chin on his fists and stared down at the red tablecloth.

"So she's all right?"

For a long minute the words didn't make any sense, and then Ned shut his eyes for a long moment and shook his head. "She doesn't remember," he said softly. He bowed his head. "She doesn't remember the last two days."

Edith pressed her palm to her chest. "Thank God for small favors," she said. "At least she didn't lose any more of her memory."

Ned nodded, biting back the terrible smile that wanted to cross his face. "Right," he said softly.

He had been starving, but the food turned to ashes in his mouth, and the music was a thousand harsh tinny bells, and he kept telling himself that she would remember and everything would be fine, maybe she already had, maybe it would be a matter of hours, a day, and things would be uncomfortable around Carson for a while, and Nancy would remember what she had said and what they had promised, and he didn't care, he didn't care if they never had sex again, if he never saw her naked again, if only she would never look at him again the way she had when he'd told her. Her thinking that he had hurt her, it was too much to bear.

He didn't even notice how quiet his parents were until his father said, "We'll take you back to the hospital in the morning."

Ned's lips turned up in the ghost of a smile but he didn't respond. If Carson wanted to take things that far, he had all the evidence he needed to take Ned to court and prosecute him for rape. Without Nancy to contradict it, without Nancy's memory of the night, it was his word against blood, bruises... He reached up and ran his fingers over his shoulder, where the marks of her teeth still stood red on his skin. Defensive wounds.

The tears standing in her eyes when he'd pulled back and found that he was hurting her.

_"I've always wanted you in my life, but I didn't realize how much until this happened..."_

Ned let his fork drop to the tablecloth and just let himself breathe, in and out, ignoring the burning in his throat. He could start over again, he could do this, as long as he could see her again. Like none of it had ever happened. He could forget the accusation in her eyes as she lay in her hospital bed, he could forget the way she'd moaned against his neck, the way he'd been able to feel her heart beating between her thighs when she'd come. He could go back to the way things had been, before last night.

_Last night._

They were all on the couch, watching _It's a Wonderful Life_, but he wasn't so much watching it as feeling himself go numb by inches. He could have tried harder. He'd go to Carson; maybe not anytime soon, but Carson would understand, after he told him that what he'd done had been entirely inappropriate and all his fault, that he'd do anything to make it up to her.

_She's his little girl_, the voice smirked. _He was fine with you as long as he thought you'd never do something like this._

_I just have to see her again._

He knew he'd never sleep again. Not until this was finished. Even if she didn't remember, _he_ could remember the look on her face, that she'd said she would have said yes, and he had to believe it. Even if she never remembered, if she never looked at him that way again, for a night she had felt the way about him that he'd felt since he'd first asked her to be his girlfriend. She had loved him, last night.

He didn't hear the phone ring. He didn't hear anything until his father's hand was on his shoulder, shaking it slightly, his brown eyes lit with concern.

"It's Carson."

Ned went into the hallway, to the phone, and he couldn't feel the floor under his feet, he couldn't feel the receiver in his hand. He took a very long, very deep breath and then forced himself to lift it to his ear.

"Sir?"

"Ned."

The two men were quiet until Carson cleared his throat. "I know you and Nancy have a history, and that's the only reason I'm doing this."

Ned's heart caught in his throat, but he couldn't speak.

"You are never going to see her again. You will not come near her, you will not call, you will _never_hurt her again. If I even sense you anywhere around her, I will go to the police and I will make sure that you are sent to prison for what you did to her.

"Have I made myself clear?"

Ned closed his eyes. "Yes, sir."

"You don't want to put her through the ordeal of a trial, do you? After everything else she's gone through."

"No, sir." He didn't even recognize his own voice anymore.

Carson made a choked noise. "I trusted you. She trusted you." He sounded disgusted. "What he did to her, that will heal, but you..."

_I never wanted to hurt her. I never would have hurt her. If she could remember, she'd be the first to tell you. She wanted this as much as I did. I'd marry her tomorrow, I'd spend the rest of my life with her, making her happy, and I would never hurt her._

Ned squeezed his eyes tight shut. _All he can see is the blood._

"I understand," he said faintly, in a voice that had never been his.

Carson slammed the phone into the receiver and Ned hung up, gently, and then went to the stairs without a backward glance. His room was just the way he'd left it, and he didn't even bother taking his shoes off before sprawling on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

And for the first time since she'd fallen, after fifteen hours of his perfect hell, his face crumpled and he broke.


	3. Chapter 3

The Omega Chi house was empty. All the brothers were over at the Theta Pi house with their sorority sisters, decorating for the dance in red and white, hearts and streamers, roses and suspiciously fruity punch. All except a few, still studying, those who didn't have girlfriends, who hadn't bothered to go buy chocolates or jewelry or roses. And Ned.

Ned was sitting at his desk, a textbook open at his elbow, his room dim with faded sunlight, frowning at his cell phone.

Three days after Carson's phone call, he'd searched through his desk, going over every sheet of paper, until he found where he'd once jotted down Hannah's cell phone number. He knew that if he called the house, Carson might make good on his threat, but Hannah, at least, might tell him how Nancy was doing. 

"Ned," Hannah had sighed, picking up on the second ring. "I've been waiting."

Every other day, sometimes every day, he'd called, and Hannah talked about the thousand small things in her life, the hibernating garden and cooking, Nancy's dresses, trips to the market and visits with her sister, coffee breaks, the fine thin lines on Carson's face. After two weeks, she began to talk about Nancy's sessions with the counselor, and the wide bright stillness that had replaced those two days in her memory.

Nancy's bruises faded and she remembered a gun and a high window and a face through a thick pane of wired glass, and nothing else. She rejected two cases, she didn't go anywhere, and Carson took more days away from the office than he ever had before, his eyes dead when he looked at anything other than his daughter.

"Are you worried about her," Ned had finally voiced, hunched alone on the edge of the quad with his back to the wind, watching the freshmen chatter and gossip over their lunches, in the hour they shared between his classes.

Hannah sighed. "I always worry about her," she replied. "And she misses you."

Ned's heart stopped. "I thought she hated me."

For a long moment Hannah didn't contradict him, and Ned's heart slowed back to its normal dull ache. "She needs support," she said. "And we're doing all we can but I know how much _you_, and_your_ support, meant to her."

Ned couldn't breathe. "What can I do, now," he said, his fingers digging into his knee.

"I don't know," Hannah admitted.

So he sat, and he had never had to call twice but he did that day and she still didn't answer, and he knew that this had been difficult and living at this tentative arm's-length was all he could do but he wondered whether Carson had found out, if his next call would be answered by Nancy's father, if the next knock at his door would bring a process server and the lie that could never be unspoken.

The thought was as close to unbearable as the rest of them had been. When his brothers had asked, he'd said that Nancy hadn't visited because she was just very busy, and he didn't talk about their ordeal or their night together, and all he told Hannah was that things had been blown out of proportion. He never told anyone what he remembered and what she had said and how she was perfect and right and they just fit, because it didn't matter anymore.

_She will be back_, he told them. But he never believed it, and most of him still didn't. And with every new memory Hannah reported, another that didn't involve him, with every hour, he felt her hate thicken and solidify between them.

She had probably never opened her Christmas gift. Ned looked down at the ring he'd picked out for her for Valentine's Day, the pale blue stone nestled on black velvet, and thought of mourning and presents he'd never given her, and the way his birthday would feel when he spent all of it waiting for her to walk through the door with that soft smile on her face.

He closed the box and closed his phone and tried not to think about how hard it would be if he could never even talk to Hannah again.

\--

By sundown he caught himself thinking about driving to River Heights.

Years of Nancy's cases meant that he could imagine a thousand terrible things that might have happened to Hannah. Or Nancy. Or all three of them, really. His phone was silent and his homework incomprehensible. Every few seconds he wondered if something actually had happened, and he spun seductive fantasies where he found Nancy passed out on the kitchen floor, found the culprit, and Carson's relief was so profound that he lifted his banishment, and Nancy, at the shock of a third head injury, recovered all her memories of their night together. But his heart still burned because he knew it wasn't true.

_She doesn't want to remember. She said... she said it was all right, but she doesn't want to remember what happened between us._

He'd stopped checking his cell phone after the fifth time, when his heart had sank every time so quickly in disappointment. His land-line phone rang when he was looking down at his cell phone, startling him, and he smoothly, accidentally swept it off the desk while reaching for the land line.

"Hello?"

"Need you to come downstairs, Nickerson."

Ned made a soft sound. "Surely they don't need more help putting up streamers," he groaned, flipping his phone open. _4 missed calls._

The voice on the other end chuckled. "Just get down here, okay? I'm missing the game."

Ned flipped his phone closed again and headed out, still in the jeans and black sweater he wore to class. _After this_, he decided, _I'll try Hannah one last time, and if I can't get her..._

He was standing at the head of the stairs when he glanced down to the foot, and the phone fell from his fingers, again, making a soft thud on the carpet.

Nancy was standing there, thin in her padded black jacket, her hands still in the pockets, her red-gold hair spilling over her shoulders, a faint smile on her face, and she looked just like Christmas morning.

"Hello," she said softly.

\--

He reached for the rail and held it tight, and his knees buckled and he sat down on the top step heavily, never taking his eyes from her face. He thought, vaguely, that he should make sure she was alone...

"Hey," he said, finally, in a whisper, because he could no more resist her than the tide.

"Do you want..." Her fists shifted in the pockets of her jacket, she shifted her weight to her other foot, and he could feel her gaze on his face. "Do you want to go for a walk?"

He was shaking a little when he stood. "Okay," he answered softly. "I'm going to grab my coat, you can... if you wanted to come up..."

They kept staring at each other until she dropped her chin, nodding, and climbed the stairs to him. He stepped back and she was close enough to touch, and he wanted to touch her, but he kept his hand at his side. This close she was pale and the shadows under her eyes were like bruises, but those eyes were still the same bright blue.

"Are you here alone," he asked, the question that had been on the tip of his tongue the entire time, as he held the door to his room open, pausing in case she wanted to go in. When she did, his stomach did a slow flip and he followed her inside, groping in his closet for his jacket, finding his shoes.

She nodded, her hair falling over her cheek before she pushed it behind her ear, and her hands were so pale. "I know what Dad said to you, and I'm not here... about that."

He found his keys and dropped them into his jacket pocket, slid his wallet into his jeans, met her eyes again. "Nancy, I... I'm sorry."

For a long time she stared at the carpet. When he tried to pass, to come close to her, her hand reached for his and he closed his eyes when they touched, and he missed this, had begun to think it would never happen again.

"You said," she murmured, and he strained to hear her, could only just understand her, "you said you were hurting me, and you stopped."

He stumbled back until the backs of his knees hit the bed and fell onto it, still clinging to her hand, his eyes stinging. "You remember."

She shook her head slowly, her eyes gleaming when they met his. "Let's go for a walk."

\--

He took her hand as they walked along the edge of the frozen lake and just waited, because he had waited this long, and it was almost over, like the weight of a thousand years in one breath. The moon was rising, the air black and cold. There were couples skating hand-in-hand, rushing along the path in heels and pinching shoes. Ned couldn't care less.

"I don't remember," she exhaled, her nose gone red in the cold. "Not all of it. But I remember enough to know that whatever happened between us, it wasn't rape."

"What do you remember?"

Her fingers tightened between his. "Something about a beach," she said, her voice low and melodious. "Your hand in cloth. Blood on my... on my legs. And you saying that you were hurting me, and you pulled back because you didn't want to hurt me..."

He nodded, his chin brushing his chest. "I put my shirt over my hand when we were trying to escape."

She bit her lip. "I... we decided to do it, didn't we."

"Yeah," he whispered. He even risked a small smile. "You actually were the one who brought it up."

Her fingers moved under his. "I don't remember that," she whispered. "I don't remember having sex with you. And when I woke up in the hospital, and they told me, I thought..."

"And any other time, you would have been right," he said. "I don't know how much of everything else you remember, I don't know if you've met Bronson, but he was going to kill us, and we knew that..." He stopped walking and he just stared at her when she turned to him. He reached up and traced his fingers down her cheek, and she didn't move into his touch, but she didn't pull away.

"I thought I was never going to see you again."

She glanced down and then started walking again, and he followed. "You weren't going to," she admitted. "I was... things were very bad when I woke up, and my father has been treating me like I'm going to break in half, and--"

"Does he know you're here?"

He hadn't meant to say it, but he had been watching the bushes, watching the faces of anyone they passed, just in case. Her face darkened, and she nodded once, slowly, but didn't say anything.

"It was like you made the biggest decision-- one of the biggest decisions of our lives, without me. Ned, I do love you, and we've been together for a long time, but... that? While we were on a _case_?"

"I told you," he said, and he chuckled, even against the ache growing in his throat. "You said we didn't need roses and candlelight and a fancy restaurant..."

"For our first night together?"

He shook his head. "For when I asked you to marry me. And I did, ask you to marry me. As meaningless as it was, I meant every word of it."

Her face colored softly. "Oh."

Her steps slowed until they were motionless again, and she stared at a point off in the distance, where the frozen lake met the snow.

"Do you want me to tell you?" His thumb traced over her fingers. "Will it help you, if I can tell you what happened, or will it hurt your therapy?"

She shook her head. "I don't want you to tell me what you remember," she said, her gaze still fixed. "It wouldn't hurt the therapy, and she says that eventually I might recover it all on my own, but... I don't want you to tell me about something I might never be able to feel."

He felt his face fall, only a little, while his heart sank straight down to the ground. "You want to go back to the way things were," he said, and it wasn't a question. "Or..." He drew in a long deep breath, the air so cold in his lungs that it hurt, "Or did you come here to tell me that it doesn't matter, and you don't want to see me anymore..."

She turned to him, then, pulled his hand away from hers, and her eyes were shining. "I didn't come here to say any of those things," she said. Then she searched his gaze.

"You really told me you'd marry me, that night?"

He swallowed, nodding. "I still would," he said, and his voice was shaking, and it was almost an afterthought, but he could feel himself balanced on the edge of the knife. He fought the urge to take her hand and never let her go again, because the thought of watching her walk away, her head bowed, was too much. He would do anything to never see it again.

She smiled, tentatively. "I always knew you'd be my first," she whispered, and for a second he thought he was dreaming again, lost again. "I always knew you'd be my only."

He waited the space of a heartbeat before he pulled her into his arms and held her, her feet just dangling off the ground, and she buried her face against his shoulder and gasped in a breath that might have been edged in a sob. She wrapped her arms around him and held him tight, and he closed his eyes, the smell of her, her shampoo, her perfume, washing over him.

"I love you," he whispered against her hair. "Please don't ever leave me again."

He felt the cold tip of her nose brush against his cheek and then her mouth was against his ear, and his reaction was sudden, visceral, overwhelming.

"Be my first again."

\--

They were in the car, and he was holding her hand, because he hadn't been able to stop touching her. Not since he'd felt her mouth against his ear. He knew he was dreaming, but he didn't ever want to wake up from this.

"Why are we going to the store?" she asked, her eyes bright.

"Because everything is going to be perfect this time," he replied, coasting to a stop at the red light. "Well, as perfect as I can make it with an hour's warning. So the string quartet is out, but we can still try to find a bottle of champagne."

"This late, on Valentine's day?"

He shrugged. "You came back," he said, trying to keep his voice light. "Anything's possible."

She stared out the window, headlights playing over her face as they started moving again. "I kept thinking about going to the beach," she said softly. "Dreamed about it. Even before I remembered." She turned to face him. "It was going to be a good trip... if you proposed to me, was that where we were going for our honeymoon?"

He shook his head. "We were going to go to the beach once the case was over, to unwind."

She nodded slowly. "Yeah," she said. "That feels right."

Under the fluorescent lights, once they were inside, she still looked pale but she seemed to move with more confidence, leading him to the home accents aisle. "Candles and champagne, Ned?"

"Yeah, but no teddy bears and no massage oils," he said. "Although, if we're trying to do things the same way..."

She glanced back at him, over her shoulder, and her blue eyes were serious. "Is that what you want?" she asked. "Everything the same?"

Afraid of dying, afraid that he'd never have the chance again to tell her how he felt, afraid of making too much noise or hurting her or doing something wrong. Afraid.

He shook his head. "No," he admitted, reaching up to touch her cheek. "All we were was afraid, and all I've been since your father called me is afraid... and it hurt me to remember what happened when I knew all it had done was hurt you."

She nodded. "But you'd never hurt me."

"And I'll never... I will do everything in my power to never hurt you again."

\--

Perfect, at ten o'clock on the night of February fourteenth, meant seven white pillar candles of various heights, the last remaining bottle of sparkling white grape juice since apparently she wasn't supposed to drink with her medications, and flowers. Even the last shoddy and tattered bunches of wilting red roses were gone. He scoured the picked-over floral display, almost deciding to take his chances at an all-night convenience store, when he found a bunch of daisies, a yellow ribbon wrapped around their stems, fresh and practically flawless.

And they felt right in his hand, and they felt right when he handed them to her in the checkout line, when her eyes lit up softly.

"Thanks."

"I know they're not enough, and I don't care how many old ladies I have to knock down, or favors I have to call in to find you roses..."

She stopped his mouth with her fingers against his lips. "This is good," she murmured. "This is enough."

In the Omega Chi house he managed to find two clear plastic cups decorated with holly and an abandoned ice cube tray at the back of the freezer. She poured their glasses of sparkling grape juice, back up in his room, and they toasted, regarding each other over the rims after that first sip.

"I know what you said earlier..." Ned looked down. "I don't know, what you wanted..."

After a few moments of watching him struggle with what to say next, Nancy took pity on him and smiled. "What I want, is to watch a movie," she said, setting her cup down. "And for you to find me some matches."

He sat down at the foot of his bed, watching her, as she struck the match and touched it to the white wick of each candle, one by one, all crowded on his desk, throwing pale gold shadow on the wall. He watched as she found a movie and cued it up, one they had seen before, walked over to his bedside table and turned the lamp on, the overheads off.

Then he watched as she pulled something from the small of her back, at the waistband of her jeans, something small that gleamed where the candlelight hit it, and the gun made a solid thunk as she put it down on his desk. He looked back at her eyes, his own slightly widened in shock, but then she kicked off her shoes and unbuttoned her jeans, which made him forget any and everything else. By the time she stilled she was in a sleeveless ribbed shirt and panties, her clothes lain across his desk chair.

She raked her hair back with her fingers and bit her lip. "Is this okay? Unless... you had other plans for tonight."

She hadn't even bothered glancing back at his television set, and Ned couldn't have cared less about what was on the screen. He stood and pulled the covers back, gesturing for her to get into bed, as he stripped down to his boxers, draped a t-shirt over the lamp and followed.

"How long have you been carrying a gun?"

Their bare legs were tangled and she lay half-sprawled over him, her head against his bare chest and her hand cradled under her chin, his arm looped around her back. From the fixed way she stared at the screen, he'd known she wasn't watching any more than he was.

"I had Daddy get it for me a few days after I came home," she said softly, her gaze still fixed, a hundred miles away. "I don't carry it all the time, but it makes me feel safer..."

He trailed his fingers over her forehead and tucked her hair behind her ear, and she nestled in close to him. "I'm sorry," he breathed.

She shrugged and her the tips of her hair moved like silk over his skin. "It's okay."

Ned sighed, then pushed himself up. "It's not okay," he said, his heart shifting when Nancy looked up at him, her blue eyes wide, pushing herself up on the heels of her hands, nearly perched over him. "Are you going to spend the rest of your life like this?"

She pushed herself onto her side, her back to the wall. "I thought I was," she said, and he watched the candlelight play over her skin, the planes of her cheeks. "I didn't know how important you were to my life until you weren't in it anymore... because at least, when I was with you, I was free. I can't-- move, I can't breathe, I can't leave that house without my father asking where I'm going. And I hate falling asleep because most of the time, when I dream..." She shook her head.

"And being with me was any better than that?" he smiled.

"In your most protective moods you were never like him," she said, tilting her head back to look at him. Then she smiled. "But he loves me."

"And I love you," he said, tracing his fingers over her cheek.

"You never called," she whispered, looking away from him.

He slid down and forced her to meet his gaze again. "I did," he said softly. "I called Hannah almost every day to ask her how you were doing."

Her eyes were wet, and he slipped his arms around her and held her tight, her mouth against his shoulder. "I missed you so much," she murmured, into his skin. "And when you didn't... when you didn't even try to call me, I thought it was because you were ashamed..."

"I was," he whispered, against her hair. "I thought you only couldn't remember because you didn't want to, because you never really wanted things between us to go that far..."

She reached up and buried her fingers in his hair. "Our timing was horrible," she said, and laughed a little, through her tears. "You have to admit that."

He nodded, and reached for the remote, flipping off the television. "When you were gone... Nan, our timing was horrible, and I understand if you..."

She sighed and pushed herself up, until her face was just a few inches from his, her hair brushing his cheek. Her gaze drifted from his eyes to his mouth. "You understand if I what," she said softly.

He swallowed audibly. "If you want to wait."

She moved, slowly, until she was almost straddling him. "Do you want to wait?" she whispered.

He reached up and traced his hand over her hair. "No," he said softly. Then he slipped his hand down, to the waistband of her panties, very slowly, watching her face. "I don't want to."

She kissed him, then, making soft noises when his hands moved, and when she finally pulled back he had her shirt pushed halfway up her stomach. She raked her hair back and Ned sat up, with her in his lap, and she pushed her lower lip out in a soft pout.

"What is this going to mean," he gasped.

She slid in close to him, the warmth between her thighs brushing his erection, and his lip trembled as she slid her arms around his shoulders.

"You remember," she said softly. "You remember what happened that night."

He nodded. "And I'll tell you, I--"

She pressed her fingers against his lips. "Show me," she whispered.

He leaned forward and kissed her cheek, her ear, and with his mouth against her earlobe he whispered, "Tell me you'll be mine for the rest of our lives, tell me you'll never leave me again."

She shivered. "I'll never leave you," she said. "Just don't ever leave me."

He caught the hem of her shirt in his hands and tugged it over her head, and before he had time to blink she was shrugging her bra off. In the chill she leaned forward and caught his mouth with hers again, and Ned closed his eyes as he hooked his fingers in the waist of her panties again and tugged them slightly.

Then she was naked, in the flickering candlelight, cupping his cheek as he knelt over her, her hand curved at his hip. He smiled when she opened her legs, and he kissed her again, hard, the grape juice sour on their tongues. She pressed her hips up, toward his, but he shook his head when he pulled back.

"You're always so impatient."

"Am not," she gasped, and grinned. "Was I before?"

A shadow passed over his face, and she caught it. "Yeah," he murmured, leaning in to brush his lips against her neck, and she giggled softly. "You were."

She arched when he caught her nipple in his mouth and traced his tongue over the tip. Wherever he moved, he could feel her, her nails sliding over his back, the delicate skin of her inner thigh moving against his hip. She tilted her head back, exposing the long white column of her throat.

"Are you afraid," he whispered into her other breast, just before finding her nipple.

She shifted under him, and he felt something warm and yielding against the tip of his cock, and he closed his eyes and swore that if she didn't stop moving soon...

"I'm not afraid of you," she said. "Not anymore."

Then she made a soft noise deep in her throat, as she felt his fingertips trail down to her hip. "Are you going to..."

"Yeah," he chuckled, watching her brow furrow. Then he shivered as she curved her fingers and lightly brushed the backs of her fingers in a slow smooth stroke down his hip to his pelvis, nearly touching the base of his penis before starting again. "It'll be better that way."

"Better for me to make love to you with my fingers?" She loosely clasped her fist around his cock and gently stroked it while bucking her own hips up under him.

"Better for you," he managed to choke out. He pushed himself back up and kissed her again, slowly, and when she stroked him again he pulled back and traced his mouth down her neck, nipping at her breasts again, down the line of her stomach, until her nails were curved into points against his shoulder blades and he was drawing the tip of his tongue around her belly button.

"Ned..."

He slipped his fingers over her thigh, just slow enough to make her shift impatiently underneath him, pressed her lips open and ran his thumbs just inside, over the slick warmth of her flesh. She sucked in a breath hard and pushed herself back on her heels, and he could almost hear her heart speeding from his touch as he pressed up, almost against her clit.

He led his fingers down until he could feel her, wet and hot against his touch, slipped his thumb up and she shuddered, moaning, when he found her clit. He curved his fingers up, stroking, and she writhed, pushing herself up on her elbows.

"Let me touch you," she gasped.

He shook his head, still moving his fingers in her as he knelt over her, but he groaned when her cooler fingers found him again. "Baby," he managed, arching against her touch, "you're wet, and I'm going to go slow... you just have to tell me if I need to stop..."

She nodded, groaning. "Please," she whispered, rubbing the ball of her thumb over the tip of his cock. "I want to feel it..."

He smiled and gently pushed her hand away, even though he was shaking, slipped his fingers where hers had so recently been and then pressed her thighs open. Her hand was warm against his shoulder, her nails curling into the back of his neck, and then she inhaled sharply in the dark as he just nudged the tip of his cock inside her. She arched hard and he found her clit again, timing his strokes with his shallow smooth thrusts, until he was halfway there and she was just as tight as she'd been that night almost two months before. Her every breath came in another moan, and he could feel her mouth, wet against his shoulder, her hands restless over his skin.

"You have to tell me," he whispered, closing his eyes. "You have to tell me if it hurts too much."

She mumbled something and tilted her knees back, and then she was suddenly crying out against his chest, her hips shifting up to meet his. "Don't stop," she gasped, her nails sweeping over his back. "Ned, oh God, oh God please don't stop..."

He pressed another inch between her thighs and thumbed her clit, harder, until she was screaming, until he shifted close and urged her knees up, groped and found her ankles and linked them at the small of his back, and then he could feel her breath on his neck and the soft hot clench of her against his cock. The pillow was cool against his cheek and his knees were sliding between hers and then he broke, and it took every bit of his control not to bury himself fully inside her, deep and hard. He shifted the angle, pressed his cock inside her slow and smooth, building only when she made a soft frustrated noise and dug her heels against the small of his back. Her cries were harsher, breathier, edged in pain and frustration, and when he just ran the tip of his thumbnail over her clit she didn't come, not quite, but she clenched and his hand was against her thigh, his fingers digging into her ass as he thrust one last time and then let himself come.

"I love you," he whispered, kissing her furrowed brow, her cheek, feeling her lips brush against his skin, her nails between his shoulder blades. He kissed the point of her jaw as he slowly pulled back, out of her, tracing his fingers in slow circles over her hip, and when he was apart from her he found her clit again, and she arched immediately, her mouth falling open, her breath hot against his ear.

"I love you too," she moaned, and he smiled against her cheek as he stroked her, and her hips began to move again in that familiar rock against his touch. When his fingers strayed too low she whimpered in pain, her nails biting into his skin, and then she shifted her hips back and her cries went higher, higher, her teeth scraping against his jaw. She reached down and pressed his hand against her, and he stilled his fingers as she trembled against him, her lashes fluttering against his skin as she came.

He could see her face, clearer this time, even if he couldn't feel it, and when she finally opened her wet eyes, her touch light against his hand as she kept it cupped softly between her thighs, he smiled at her.

"Okay?"

She nodded slowly, searching his eyes. "Was this how it was before?"

He shook his head. "We weren't in a bed, for one," he said, and kissed her, long and hard. Her legs were loose and open under his, and she took his weight, her breasts moving against his chest as she wrapped her arms around him. When he pulled back he leaned down and kissed her ear again, then whispered just against it, "And you came."

"How," she whispered, even as she shivered. "God... I thought it wasn't going to hurt..."

"How much did it hurt," he breathed. "I told you..."

She shook her head. Then she buried her fingers in his hair and sank her teeth into his shoulder, biting him so hard he cried out in shock. She pulled back and soothed it with a soft lingering kiss.

"It hurt like that," she whispered. "But more."

He ducked his head in, against her neck, and when he nipped at her skin she giggled and shoved away from him. "You should have told me," he whispered.

"Hey, it's not like I wasn't having fun," she protested, stroking his cheek when he pulled back to look at her. Then she smiled. "Besides, you were doing great there at the end. And we'll get it right."

He couldn't stop the grin from coming over his face. "You mean it?"

"What did you think, I just came up here for a quickie?" She flashed a grin to match his, but then it faded too quickly.

"Your father wasn't happy with this."

It wasn't a question, but his heart sank a little anyway when she nodded. "He'll get over it," she said, with such ferocity in her voice that he had to believe her. "I'm twenty-one years old, I carry a gun, and you..." She looped her arm around his shoulders and drew him down to her, kissed him on both cheeks and then deep and hard, her tongue pressing against his. "You are one of the best things in my life. You make me happy, Ned. You made me happy tonight."

He slipped his arms under her and held her tight. "I haven't been happy since the last time I saw you," he admitted. "You may not know this, but sex? It's kind of addictive. And then you cut me off, so hard..."

"Oh, so that's the only reason you missed me," she said, but her eyes were sparkling. "Your _dick_missed me."

"Don't talk about it, or it'll hear you and you'll end up biting me again," he said, and pushed her hair behind her ear. Then she saw something in his eyes shift. 

"What is it?"

He pressed a quick kiss against her mouth and slid out of bed, and she pushed herself up on her elbow, the sheet sliding down until her breasts were bare in the slow orange light from the guttering candles, to watch him as he went over to his desk. "Ned," she said, pitching her voice low and fluttering her lashes, "come back to bed, it's cold outside."

"Just a second," he said, and then he ran back to her and slid in next to her, curving his arm over her waist as they faced each other. "I got you something else."

"Those massage oils and teddy bears your forbid me earlier?" She was grinning, her eyes soft, and when they were so close it was hard to remember that they had ever been apart.

"Not quite," he said. "Maybe next time."

Then he reached for her hand and slipped the ring into her palm, watching her expectantly as her fingers closed around it and she brought it close to her face. Her own eyes widened when she saw it, and she glanced from it to him, her mouth falling open.

"It's beautiful... you knew I'd be coming back," she said, as she slid the ring onto her finger. Then she threw her arms around him and kissed him, hard.

"No," he said, when she pulled back, her eyes shining. "But my heart did."


End file.
